Glitter & Rock 'n' Roll
by Blaise O'Connor
Summary: Original Ember. Emmeline goes through life dealing with a dead mom, a loving asshole boyfriend, and pink hair, but she can handle it all until the Winchesters show up. Now, with her lead foot driving, will trouble wipe the floor with her?
1. Chapter 1

**Glitter & Rock 'n Roll **

This is the original "Ember." I already have close to 450 pages written in a notebook so hopefully updates will be pretty easy.

I thought of changing her name, and I did, for the reason of clearity, so if you see "Ember" instead of "Emmeline" don't be confused. (I would like to thank SuzSinger for encouraging me to type this out, along with Lady Gaga's incredible song lyrics which inspired the title.) **(Not Wincest!)**

I don't own Supernatural.

**Northern Wyoming **

**June 9th, 1991 **

As they walked down the hall, guns out, and senses on high alert, John and Dean Winchester rounded the corner to find…nothing.

"What the hell?" Dean breathed out in disbelief. They had seen the strange man in the overcoat turn here, where there was a dead end. "You saw that thing's wings…think maybe it flew out?"

"To where? There's a window." John stood up, never letting his senses dull, and looked his son in the eye, "Alright, let's get back to your brother; that waitress is probably tired of him by now."

Dean grinned, knowing his father was right. In a hurry, chasing after the winged freak, they had left little six year old Sammy alone in the diner they had previously been eating at.

"Think maybe it was a shape shifter, or a witch of some sort?" Dean whispered as they stuffed there guns into their waste bands.

Dean, being a ten year old boy, had already learned how to shoot, aim, and do just about anything with a gun that you could possibly do. He wanted to be just like dad, always following his every order.

"Not like any I've ever seen."

As they walked back into the diner the frazzled waitress gave them a dirty look, warning them not to do that ever again, least they wanted to die by her hands.

John looked over at his boys now that they were all once again seated in the booth, inspecting their clothes and posture. "Dean, sit up straight. You're supposed to set an example for your brother."

"Yes, sir." Dean cut his eyes at Sam before sitting up into a better position, knowing that his little brother wasn't watching his posture.

"Hey, dad…you think you can take us on your next hunt?" Dean added hopefully. He knew that, on occasion, he and Sam would go on hunts. They were always something small, but it was better than being stuck in a hotel room for days on end.

"Hmm," and that's all she wrote.

**Hotel in Memphis, Tennessee **

**Same Day, 1991**

The sound of a gun cocking could be heard from across the empty shopping center parking lot. A red headed woman and her child ducking behind an 83' Camaro as bullets riddled the car.

The blood of the now dead father slowly reached them on the pavement, staining the little girls' jeans and hands. "Momma!" She whispered, handing over another round of ammo to the determined woman next to her, "I think you made them angry."

"Hush, now, Emm. Everything's gonna be alright!" She said, handing her daughter a business card, "You remember what we rehearsed?" She nodded, "Okay. Is your bullet proof vest strapped on tight?"

She looked down at her daughter, the shining light in darkness of disaster. "I need you to keep it on, no matter what. Run as fast as you can to safety and _hide_! Remember, baby, I'll always love you."

The little girl hugged her mother, fastened the Velcro of the vest tighter, and made a run for it.

A flash of yellow made her finally realize that this would be the last time she'd belong to anything.

She ran and ran until the charm protected phone booth came into view, the lines she'd memorized a million times over gracing her lips. Now that she was to speak them to someone it made her nervous.

Finally she stepped into the booth, lifting the receiver to her ear, holding it there with her shoulder. She looked at the business card nine times as she dialed the area code and number.

Taking a deep breath, she waited until the man she needed picked up the phone, she repeated the lines again. "Hello, Singer Salvage Yard?"

Her voice shook, "Yes, is this Bobby Singer?" She could feel the salty tear leaving marks on her cheeks.

"Yeah, who's askin'?" The gruff voice sounded horrible to her tiny ears.

"Hello, my name is Emmeline Caldwell, and my parents have been murdered." She resided perfectly for a six year old. Just like her mother taught her.

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><p><strong>It would be wonderful if you reviewed. Tell me if you like it and if I should continue. And, I know, it's a selfish bitch move to name a character after myself: eat me.<strong>


	2. Chapter 2

**Glitter & Rock 'n Roll **

_Taking a deep breath, she waited until the man she needed picked up the phone, she repeated the lines again. "Hello, Singer Salvage Yard?" _

_Her voice shook, "Yes, is this Bobby Singer?" She could feel the salty tear leaving marks on her cheeks. _

_"Yeah, who's askin'?" The gruff voice sounded horrible to her tiny ears. _

_"Hello, my name is Emmeline Caldwell, and my parents have been murdered." She resided perfectly for a six year old. Just like her mother taught her_.

**"Shit **a brick! Emmeline, where are you?" Bobby sounded panicked as he reached over his desk for a piece of paper and a pen, the phone being held between his shoulder and his head.

"Um, somewhere in Memphis?" She questioned, turning to the woman waiting patiently behind her, putting on a lost puppy look, and proceeded to ask, "Excuse me, Miss? Do you know where we are?"

The maternal, blonde headed woman adored Emmeline's lisp (caused by missing two front teeth, of course) before finally responding. "Frayser, dear. On North Watkins. Where are your parents?"

Emmeline decided to ignore the question. "Bobby?" (Insert conformation grunt here, please.) "I'm in Frayser. On North Watkins near a," looking around, she noted her surroundings. "A Grocery store, a church, and another building being build across the street."

After another couple of minutes, and three more quarters, later, the frightened young child finally moved to sit on a nearby park bench. She was ready, mentally, to wait for the several hours, or days, it took to be picked up by Bobby's "friends".

"**Boys, **it looks like you're going with me this time, after all. Pack up your stuff; we leave in fifteen minutes." John ordered as he hung up the hotel phone.

The boys hurriedly packed up their duffel bags and raced to the Impala. John grabbed his wallet, the hotel key, and started toward the front office to check out.

As John got into the driver's seat of the infamous Impala, starting the engine, he turned to his son's in the back, watching Dean snap in Sams' seat belt, he smiled for the first time that day. "Dean; Sam! Listen up: we're going to pick up a little girl Sam's age, her parents just got killed. She comes from a hunter family like us, but I want you to be nice. Not everyone is as tough as you two are." John looked specifically up at Dean, "You're to protect her, just like you Sam, okay?" Dean nodded, looking out his window.

"Dean! What do you say when I ask you a question?" John raised his gruff voice, looking at his oldest through the mirror as he turned the vehicle out onto the highway. "Yes, sir!" Dean sat up straighter and looked at his father.

"Now sit up straight, you're supposed to set a good example for your little brother." John looked out onto the road, pressing his foot harder on the accelerator. "Alright, now, here's the game plan: we're going to pick her up, take her home to pick up some clothes, and drop her off at Bobby's. You're to stay with her while she packs. I need to find out what got her parents."

**Three Days Later**

"**Emmeline **Caldwell?" A tall, burly man asked as he towered over the child. In the rain he seemed distant, cold. "John Winchester?" Came a hoarse, tired sounding whisper.

"Yeah. Come on, let's get going." John picked the girl up, carrying her on his shoulder to the Impala. "Have you eaten anything?"

"Yes, Sir. I stole a picnic basket from the park. Like the bears from that cartoon!" After a moment of thought, "My home is on the Indian Reservation outside of town. Take the free-way," Emmeline had every direction memorized from the free-way to her house, in case she ever needed it. Like now, for instance.

"Where did you last see your parents?" he looked down at the dark brown, almost black hair of the little half Cherokee Indian, half white girl's head, and sighed. He didn't want to take her back to that place, but he knew he had to.

Placing her in the back seat of the Impala, and watching her look at he street signs, made him wonder why she was so seemingly smart. For a child.

"Take a left at the next at that stop sign," she pointed to the red octagon. "And go over six blocks, take another left at a turned over dumpster with all that bad smelling stuff, and the store is on..." Emmeline held up her two hands, making the "L" with the left, and a backwards "L" with the right. "The right."

Doing just as he was told, John found the shopping center easily. The Camaro was gone, but the chalked body outlines where still visible.

The outlines of her parents stared back at her, boring holes into her side as she turned away, her thumb coming up to her mouth as a nervous habit. She could feel John's eyes, and the eyes of the un-named boys, on her back. John got out of the car, grabbed a duffel bad with a fake police badge, and walked toward the police tape.

"Dude, must have been one epic gun fight. Poor Camaro, though," Dean continued to ramble on and on until he suddenly stopped.

Emmeline didn't notice at first, because she was too focused on the black eyed man headed straight for the car. Sam perked up to see over the backseat he wasn't tall enough to see over yet.

"Who's that, Dean?" Sam stuttered clumsily.

"Demon! Sammy, duck!" Dean yelled, ducking down between the seat and the dash, grabbing the gun from the glove box. He loaded the rock salt filled shells from under the seat and rolled the window down to shoot the demon headed directly to their car. Pull the trigger and...bam. Rock salt exploded on the chest of the demonic son of a bitch, knocking him back, and calling the attention of daddy Winchester.

Rushing over to his boys, and Emmeline, John whispered an exorcism of Latin spells, quickly solved the problem.

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><p><strong>Good?<strong>

**Be sure to check out the best Forum in the entire world: A FF's Guide to Dealing With The Impossible. It's yummy!**


	3. Chapter 3

**Glitter & Rock 'n Roll **

_A Trailer on a Cherokee Reservation:_

**"I'm **going in to check for demons. When I give the go ahead you can come in. Get your clothes and pack them in whatever bag you have. You're going To Bobby's. Anything important your parents wouldn't want the police to find?" John turned to Emmeline, a questioning tone on his tongue.

All eyes were on Emmeline as she thought quickly about all the items in her home. "Well...there's this gun they keep talkin' about. Something about a baby horse. It's in Momma's safe." John's eyes lit up at the mention of the baby horse gun, cocking his weapon as he stepped out the car. He quickly checked around the back of the trailer before stepping inside.

Dean stepped out of the car soon after a light flashed in a pattern from the window, "Come on, Sammy. Em."

The little girl opened the front door, running past John to a sleeper-sofa near the back. Gathering a empty duffel, stuffing it with all the clothing she owned and placing a small cross from the wall on top of them, she zipped it up. Emmeline proceeded to lift the mattress of her parents bed, enlightening the others of the safe's previously hidden presence to a bewildered John Winchester. "The code is nine, twenty, three teen. I mean thirteen!"

An eyebrow lifted at the mistake, but none-the-less walked past Sam and Dean to Emmeline, unlocking the safe to find a dust ring, surrounding the shape of a gun. But no gun was present there anymore, much to John's dismay.

His eyes closed and, involuntarily, sighed, knowing the gun was long gone. Looking up he noticed the salt line, milk jugs filled with what he assumed to be Holy Water, and a Devil's trap door mat.

Clearly, these people where protecting the Cult from _somebody_, and _somebody_ got it, and that _somebody_ wasn't a demon. "Alright, change of plans. We're heading directly to Bobby's. And we aren't stopping till we hit the state line, so bathroom breaks now." John looked pointedly at Sam before turning his gruff, unshaven face to Emmeline. "Where is your birth certificate?"

With a frown, the girl grabbed a thick manila folder from her mother's top dresser drawer. "Check."

**They** made it to Bobby's place in just under three days. John grabbed Emmeline's duffel and headed to the front door, three little ducklings following closely behind.

"Bobby," he shook hands with the strong man, and, as they finished exchanging pleasantries, both looked toward the children, whom looked at Emmeline.

"Hi," she squeaked shyly.

"It's nice to meet you, Emma, even though the reason ain't. Come in, now; don't y'all stand there like strangers. "But, Unca Bobby! Emma is a stranger!" Sam, a little younger than Emmeline, still tacked on an "a" sound to the end of most words.

It was ignored, though, as everyone single filed in, Emmeline being last, sitting where they found most comfortable. The brother's fought over the remote in the living room, John and Bobby at the kitchen table.

Emmeline snuck into the book filled room, putting an ear to the wall and listening carefully. Listening, at this age, was what Emmeline did best. That's how she knew so much, for a child. Everyone was subject to being spied on. Even with her parents she did this.

"The girl said her parents had the Cult. THE Cult! Meaning someone has it now, and I don't think it's a demon." One of the men grunted, probably Bobby, at the topic, choosing instead to change it. "How'd you get stuck with the girl?"

Refrigerator door opened, bottles clanged, it closes followed by the sound of a bottle cap being popped off- "Emma's mother Lucinda was a good friend of mine. And a great hunter in her own right. Woman's famous at the Road House, if you'd bother to go there more you'd know that, but then she married some British fella, settled down, popped out that youngin' over there, and has been a gas station attendant ever since." Another cap popped off. "Way I hear it, though, she's been dabbling in things she should've left 'lone if she wanted away from this life-style. Started makin' phone calls, askin' other hunters for favors. Started trainin' Emma over there everything she knows, last she said."

A chair scouted forward. A bottle was set on the table. "Made me promise to take care of 'er if she ever had to leave her. I didn't think nothing of it, but now I have to hold up my end of the bargain. Emma's quiet enough. Shouldn't be that much of a problem."

Said girl tip-toed out of the living room to stand quietly by the boys as if she had been there all along.

John and his little soldiers left them in a dust cloud for another hunt. Emma and Bobby settled in for an awkward next couple of years.

Not.

Can't end it there, 'cause it's Winchester luck, right?

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><p><em>Thought it was ok for this to be short, considering I just uploaded the last chapter only yesterday. <em>


	4. Chapter 4

**Glitter & Rock 'n Roll **

_2001:_

**A** door slammed and pounding foot steps were heard as old cowboy boots stomped across the old wooden floor of Bobby's porch. "I can't stay here anymore!" The screeching made birds fly off and a dog bark. "You are insufferable!"

"And you're fifteen, idjit! Where are you going to go? The streets?" A grumpy male voice yelled loud enough to scare the barking dog. "I'm going home! To Tennessee: where I _belong_! I don't know what on _earth_ my mother was thinking sending me to _you_!" She rolled her brown eyes, throwing the duffel across her shoulder to rest on her opposite hip, running as fast as possible in the direction of the main road.

Hitch hiking wasn't going to be fun, but she would do anything to get away from the place she thought of as a prison.

Without Thommy, her supposed other half, being there that week Emma's already short fuse had officially ran out with her care giver. How dare he deny her the right to do the thing she just _knew_ she was born to do, what her mother was teaching her how to do? And she did it well. Damn _well_.

It was in her blood just as much as freedom was (is) and she would not sit in that house learning to become some house maid! She could do anything a boy could do, and she could do it _better!_

At fifteen, Emmeline Caldwell looked, and acted, nineteen. Armed with fake identification, she could go anywhere. Be someone else. Do something. But not just "something". Emma felt she was born to be a hunter, and by the gods, she would be one! Sticking her thumb up and her chest out, it didn't take long for Emma to find a friendly truck driver headed down south.

"**Look** John, I just need you to find her and drag her back here so I can kill her." Bobby grumbled into the phone. "Where do you think she's headed? And why can't you deal with a simple teenager?"

"Damn it, she's stubborn! And fast. Think she's on her way to Tennessee. Says she's born to be a hunter, or something. You'd think after the way her parents got glocked off she'd know better than to go runnin' into this type of thing!"

John wrote down the address of her old home, and the last name she so proudly flaunted. "What's she look like now? She's been scarce since six."

Bobby sighed, his rage barley suppressed. "Five foot, six inches. Long, dark hair, brown eyes, and a nasty right hook. John, I'm warning you: don't fight her. Spunky little thing," Bobby muttered under his breath. "If it comes down it, she's got a tattoo. I don't know where. Something Cherokee. Probably be wearing dirty old cowboy boots."

Dean looked over his father's shoulders at what his elder was writing down. "Cherokee Indian Reserve, Caldwell, five foot, six inches, dark hair, brown eyes, don't fight, Cherokee tattoo" was all he could see before he smirked arrogantly. From what he remembered of the scrawny half breed, Dean thought you would "break the dumb twit" in a fight.

Loading his now packed bag in the Impala, Dean went to his younger brother, hitting him on the shoulder blade. "Riding with me or dad?"

Sam's first, innate response was to roll his eyes, but suppressed it in favor of, "What do you think, Dean?" After a momentary pause, "Where are we going this time?"

"That girl ran away from Bobby's, I think. We're looking for a five foot-something, dark haired, dark eyed teenager in the entire state of Tennessee. Shouldn't be too hard, right?" Dean's sarcasm rolled off him in waves, "It's a chick, how hard can it be to drag her back?"

"**Crap!"** Emma resisted the urge to yell from behind her hiding spot. She hadn't arrived two days ago and now she, luckily, caught wind of a group of men asking around about her. It was either Winchesters or demons pretending to be Winchesters. _"God, I hope it's demons!"_ She prayed to her herself anxiously.

Now, every time she lays eyes on a dark haired man in a leather coat, Emma finds herself ducking. If it weren't for the loud mouth bimbo at a bar not far from where Em stayed, she was certain she would have been caught already. If she wasn't on a case she was damn determined to finish, her tail would have already taken the high road.

Stepping out from the back window of an abandoned house (her hiding spot), a sigh couldn't help but escape her lips. Heading to the bar-she didn't drink, she hunted-was her only option for the moment. The faster she stops the weird shit going on at the drinking establishment, the faster she could put miles between herself and Winchester ass.

Smile at Gary, the super cute gay bouncer, whom knew her as Emily Cross, am eighteen woman looking for some non-alcoholic fun in her new town: check. Walk past Mariah, the middle age bartender and take her seat in the corner of the dark room: check.

"Hey, doll! What'll it be today: water or pretzels?" The Italian waitress smirked as the woman she knew as Emily scrunched her nose. "No more pretzels, Jen, please. Water would be great, though." Flashing her million dollar smile was harder to do than usual, but still got the desired effect (that being anything she wanted. Even from a cranky waitress).

Observing in a bar, quietly, can prove to be quite entertaining. And educational.

"...the rate went up to one-fifty, Boss said..."

"They say that Viagra keeps the pencil sharp," laughter filled her ears when vomit wanted to fill her mouth instead.

It was around the time she as fighting back bile that she saw the blonde bimbo from earlier, only this time she was talking to a man in a leather jacket. That, Emma knew, was her que to remove her skinny ass from that particular establishment.

**Straightening **out her warm, leather military jacket as Emmeline walked through in the cold night air, though she was debating if she needed it with all the nervous sweating she was doing, she decided about then that new boots were in order if she wanted to sneak away. Her old ones, though comfortable, were squeaking with every other step. And she could feel someone following her. Which was not a good sign.

"Be a demon, be a demon, please be a demon," Emma chanted, her hands in the pockets of her waist coat, trying to look more relaxed and less 'stiff as a board, light as a feather'. Before the follower could think, Emmeline took a turn into an alley way, waiting with her back to the brick for her stalker.

Only to be met with a handsome face. "Damn," was all she could say before being interrupted. "Aren't you a little young to be hanging out in a bar?"

Emma flashed to Emily in a second, twirling a finger around imaginary blonde locks with a smile. "I don't know what you're talking about. I'm eighteen." Her face went from soft to serious, "And I'm in the middle of a hunt. Leave. Me. Alone."

"Believe me, as much as I want to go back to...Amanda? Alicia? Something like that-I have to take you back to Bobby." Dean was being dead serious here. No margin for error.

"Well, that's just fine and dandy, Sunshine, but how exactly do you plan on doing that?" She lifted an eyebrow at his 'serious face'.

"I was hoping you'd submit to my charm and come willingly..."

An elegant, ladylike snort was his answer. "You think I'll go easily after hitch hiking here from _South Fucking Dakota?_ Do you know how many truck drivers expect...how did that one guy put it? Oh, yeah, 'service him in return for his services as transportation'. Honestly, Dean, not going to happen."

"You didn't actually...?"

A smirk covered a teasing smile, "And you care...?" A question answered with a question. Emma knew she didn't, and knew a few truck driver's with black eyes, but Dean didn't need to know that. Not in a million years.

A rock was moved behind them, feet shuffling at a leisurely pace toward them.

Eyes drifted toward the tall, dark, yellow eyed man who seemed absolutely harmless. Other than the demonic yellow eyes.

Emmeline's own eyes widened considerably as she started into the creepy, deadly, coldly-calm yellow orbs of color, and she knew that color. She'd seen that same shade of yellow the day her parents died. Cold, sinister laughter echoed through the alleyway. "That's what happened to you? You've been running wild with this Winchester scum? I would've approved had you chosen the younger, smarter brother." His eyes shifted to Dean's stiff, angry form.

"Why, don't you look just like your mother? So, how's life been in my favorite Winchester sitcom? I've missed the last few episodes. Care to catch an old friend up to date?" With a sneer firmly in place on the demons' face, he avoided the kick Dean sent to his face.

"Sam!" Dean screamed out for the world to hear.

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><p><em>Ok, that's all I feel like writing for today. Good? Bad? Tell me what you think in a review or private message!<em>


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